


a mouthful of endless ambition

by C0LUMBINE



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Bad Decisions, Blurryface Era, Body Modification, Choking, Coming In Pants, DEMA (Twenty One Pilots), Dimension Travel, Dry Humping, Horns, Kinda?, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentions Of Blurryface, Mild Smut, Minor Injuries, Trench Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 21:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C0LUMBINE/pseuds/C0LUMBINE
Summary: "If you could only see yourself. I can barely recognize you sometimes." Josh reaches for the end of the rope hanging by Tyler's thigh and pulls at it, tightening the knots. Tyler tilts his head back and whimpers, fingers curving.Weak and tender, unsure where to go next, he's beginning to realize that things haven't been going his way, and instead have chosen their own path to walk.*Josh is here to help Tyler move from one era to another when things get out of control.





	a mouthful of endless ambition

**Author's Note:**

> hello! here is a new fic! this one has been through A Lot of changes. i got rid of multiple chapters, threw thousands of words in the trash, and this is what it is today. it was tough to tag so if u think i should add anything then please tell me!
> 
> anyways, enjoy this little thing and tell me if u liked it, i appreciate that.
> 
> u can also find me on tumblr if u want to see what i'm up to - @ joshdunfiles

Life has a pesky habit of flashing before one's eyes with such astounding speed that it doesn't spare any of the details one may want to remember. Sometimes, it seems as if focusing harder makes everything more blurry, while the things of true importance float where the eyes can't reach -- colorful, sharp, intense, but ignored without realization.

When Tyler tries to arrange all his memories and thoughts in his head to create a neat stack, he struggles, everything wobbles, and he tries desperately to shield it with his arms to keep any pieces from slipping out. The tricky part of it is that Tyler built his stack from the ground up, beginning with doubt, insecurity, melting into hope, interest, attention, linked with freedom and simplicity. The taller the stack gets, the more difficult it becomes to pull out old memories without making it topple over.

When Tyler closes his eyes and clears his mind, thinking about the closest past, the most prominent part is a sound -- loud, high pitched, inducing excitement, injecting adrenaline into his veins. It's a cheer of recognition and appreciation, and if Tyler didn't try hard enough to focus on something else, it would go on forever.

The second thing is a sound, too, but it differentiates, and it comes with a sensation of warmth and unexplainable thrill, almost comparable to arousal. Tyler figures out he's hearing words -- favorable words, words of praise. The string of appreciative words wraps itself tightly around his head, but he feels its impact everywhere -- in the way his cheeks get warmer, hair on his arms stands on end, leg begins to bounce. Tyler doesn't bother to look further through his collection of memories to see if he could find something else, eagerly submerging himself in the sensation being praised provides -- the feeling of complete control and holding the world by its tail. He wants more, more, more, and he's reaching out with grabby hands to grab ahold of it, even though it all makes his head pound.

The dull ache in Tyler's head intensifies and it hits with twice the power it started out with as soon as he acknowledges the amount of power and control he now possesses. It's nothing horrendously uncomfortable at first, but it's not ideal. He grips his hair, then wraps his arms around himself instead, like a predator trying to suffocate its prey. It feels like a two-sided battle between himself and what's happening inside of him. He squeezes harder, numbing the pain beneath his skull to an extent by adding a new source, but it strengthens with time, and not even the tightest grip in the world can make it weaker.

It feels like his skull is slowly cracking under unknown pressure. He can almost hear the way the bones move under his skin, two surfaces scraping against one another and making space for something that's pushing itself out to be seen. Suddenly, another source of discomfort joins in. Something laps around his upper body and restricts his movements, slow, tight, burning his skin. He hisses, gasps and squirms while the pain intensifies and battles to earn the title of the most intense. It continues for a solid minute but feels like an eternity, and Tyler takes it obediently.

He opens his eyes and tries his hardest to ignore the tears that make their way down his cheeks. They're tears of frustration first and foremost, though he's almost equally as scared as he is angry. Everything around him is dark, save for the dim, crimson light coming from an unknown source and allowing him to get a better look at his surroundings. There is nothing much to this room since it's mostly covered up by darkness, making it unable for Tyler to do even something as simple as name which color the walls are painted or identify the figure seated opposite of him in an armchair of impressive size. The figure. It's a human. It must be a human. Tyler hopes it's a human and not what his imagination is telling him.

The shadow they cast as they stand up makes Tyler's heart pound and raises more question the closer it gets to him. Tyler struggles to breathe and it gets more difficult the closer the stranger gets. He sits in his chair and feels paralyzed, awaiting the reveal.

The first part of their face that comes into the light is their nose, of a shape and size that seems oddly familiar, with a ring poking out of the left alar. He remains unsure until he sees a set of peculiar, glossy eyes that force a deep, relieved exhale out of his chest.

Josh. It's just Josh. Tyler decides that it is Josh, twisted and molded in a way that makes him fit into this world, but it's certainly still Josh.

"How're you?" Josh asks, clear concern audible in his tone of voice, which is just as soft as Tyler remembers it from the last time they have seen each other. "It all knocked the light out of ya."

"Is it over? Is it really over?" Tyler tilts his head and feels strange. His head feels heavy. He doesn't give it too much attention, however, because he's more interested in getting answers.

"It is. It'll take a while to settle in, but that's okay." Josh takes a few steps forward until he regains sharpness in Tyler's eyes. His hands are behind his back, and Tyler begins to feel increasingly suspicious of his posture. "I'm more worried about you."

"Nothing's wrong with me. 'M fine," Tyler declares because he truly doesn't feel like there's something he should be unduly concerned about. Sure, the last show of the Blurryface era has made him think about their entire journey through the universe they have brought to life so hard that he ended up knocking over a few memories and losing them somewhere he couldn't reach, but he was convinced there was nothing wrong about that. The darkness filling up his eyes just as he walked off stage turned out to be the beginning of consciousness loss, but he assumed it was normal and understandable, too. They have been working non-stop for many years, and the last show of this era has given him a massive amount of anxiety.

Josh laughs softly. "No, Tyler, it's okay. It's not just you. It's you and me both." He takes one more step forward and reaches out. Tyler tries to dodge his hand, thinking it's aiming for his face, but Josh goes further up. He wraps his fingers around something that's clearly attached to his head and something inside Tyler's mind clicks. Josh tugs and Tyler whimpers helplessly. "Feel 'em now?"

"Ow, stop," he grunts, moving his head, but Josh lets go when he decides is right. This is what sparks Tyler's awareness. All the pain that he's been feeling deep inside his head came from growth -- growth of horns, or antlers of some sort. Tyler struggles to figure out why he's been given such an anomalous accessory. "Why is this happening?"

"Been trying to figure it out for a while now," Josh says with a shrug. "Listen, have you ever felt like you're losing control over the character you've created for yourself?"

The question catches Tyler off guard. He has never had the time to think about how Blurryface truly affected him. The way he'd been manifesting himself in Tyler's behavior ever since he'd given him a spotlight and more attention than ever before, seemed healthy at first. 

Tyler had always viewed Blurryface as a creature sustaining on attention, so naturally, he figured out that feeding his greed until he's choking with how much he's being offered would eventually tire him out and make him less interested in obstructing his view of life. Tyler thought that acknowledging and accepting Blurryface as part of his own identity instead of pushing him away and treating him like an individual was going to help with understanding his intent.

"I thought I was doing everything the right way," Tyler mumbles, defeated. He'd always trusted his own gut, and wouldn't have expected that tactic to fail him when applied to such a serious decision.

"S'okay, you lost your focus, I'm no better," Josh gets a little closer and finally allows Tyler to look at both his hands. He's holding some sort of wire, rolled up into a little ball, and Tyler's heart skips a beat at the sight. Josh's eyes are glued to Tyler's horns. "They'll probably keep growing. You need help. I'm gonna help you."

Tyler starts inching away from Josh before he gets the time to properly touch him. "No, I don't need help." 

Josh laughs again, and for the first time ever, it sends a shiver of discomfort down Tyler's spine. Josh leans in and looks him right in the eye. "If you could only see yourself. I can barely recognize you sometimes." He reaches for the end of the rope hanging by Tyler's thigh and pulls at it, tightening the knots. Tyler tilts his head back and whimpers, fingers curving. He hates himself for it, but can't stop the reaction of his body to the burning sensation.

What Josh means is most definitely how drastically Tyler's appearance has changed in the past three years. He's lost weight, and though not in a way that would allow him to count his own ribs, it shows through his face. Every single negative change stands out most prominently through his face. There are dark shadows around his eyes, signifying exhaustion, working together with the bags under his eyes, so deep that Josh has to fight the urge to stick his finger in the crease. 

On top of everything that Josh can point out, Tyler's eyes are also bloodshot and glassy, nervously trying to avoid meeting his. If it is true, and eyes are the windows allowing others to take a peek inside one's soul, Tyler's must be broken and lost right now. It shows. His pupils are crimson red, and that's never a positive sign. Blurryface is a smart bastard. He knows the time of his reign has come to an end, and he's trying his hardest to keep control in his grasp.

Now, as Tyler is sitting in front of Josh, beaten down, weak and tender, unsure where to go next, he's beginning to realize that things haven't been going his way, and instead, have chosen their own path to walk. Accepting errors and failure isn't a simple task for Tyler, but the evidence is clear. Blurryface turned out to be the opposite of what Tyler had been hoping for, enhancing Tyler's bad sides and unhealthy habits instead of helping him understand and change them. He's taken control over Tyler in a whole new way, molding him into what he is now. 

On the other hand, though, Blurryface had a fair share in their success. Should Tyler be concerned? Or is gratitude what he should be feeling right now?

Tyler sniffles. His hands twitch by his sides. He finally feels strong enough to maintain eye contact, and he can't help but let out a nervous laugh. "Don't you dare do this to me. I'm the one in charge here, got it?"

"No, Tyler. He's in charge," Josh shoots back. His eyes widen and the intense whites standing out against the dark make Tyler's skin crawl. He turns his head away.

"Leave me alone," Tyler grunts, shifting. "You don't understand anything."

"This isn't normal, dude. It's over now, it's time to move on," Josh keeps digging deeper, and he can tell how much fuel each of his words adds to Tyler's already increasing frustration. 

Josh's advice flies past his head. "I just need to figure out-" he shifts in his chair again, and the throbbing pain underneath his skull hits him again. He wails and hunches forward, shaking. Too much. Too much pain, too many sources, too many mixed feelings.

Josh crouches in front of him and tips his head back up with his thumb until their eyes lock again. Tyler is panting heavily, left eyelid twitching. "It's gonna get worse, Tyler."

"Okay. Okay, fine. Do what you have to," he forces the word past his lips and slowly straightens his back. "Just untie me, please. Lemme touch them first."

Josh nods, putting the wire bundle aside. He reaches inside his pocket to fish out an Exacto knife and carefully slashes all the ropes, every bit falling to the floor. Tyler exhales with relief, moving his arms and checking out each of the imprints and burns left on his skin. They'll stay here for a while as a gentle reminder, that's for sure.

Tyler adjusts himself in the chair and lifts his clammy, shaky hands up. They travel upwards with agonizing lack of speed, but once they reach the horns, they begin to move faster, touching, rubbing, inspecting. Tyler traces the horns all the way up from their bases, where they become one with his skull, to the very tips, feeling all the ridges. They curve backward ever so slightly, resembling those of an ibex, and they feel uncomfortable, painful, especially near his forehead. It's a fresh addition, and every aggressive form of touch increases the pain. Tyler lets out a wheezing breath. His leg is bouncing again, but he doesn't realize.

Josh observes him with visible curiosity. Tyler's breath seems to be quickening a little too fast, so Josh decides to provide a distraction by putting his hand on Tyler's knee and pressing down to stop his leg from moving. Tyler, with hands wrapped around both horns, freezes, and Josh can feel a shiver beneath his palm. 

Tyler lets go of his horns and pushes him, gentle, sticking his fingers into Josh's chest. It's a little softer than he remembers, almost feels like he could keep pressing and Josh's sternum would just dent, make way for his hand and allow it to reach internal organs and eventually, the nearest wall. But his fingers just bounce off pathetically, and the gesture affects him more than it affects Josh. He wobbles in his spot and blinks repeatedly. His heart skips a beat.

Tyler leans in, eyes void of emotion staring into Josh's, then cups Josh's jaw and presses a kiss to his lips. Josh doesn't pull away. He doesn't. He leans into it. He quickly learns that it's more difficult to step away from what feels good than he thought, especially after being separated for a while. 

Tyler has kept Josh waiting for months, so intensely focused on music and making the show work just how he imagined in his head that every other aspect of his life lost importance, and they barely got the time to talk. Sometimes, a break from somebody you rub shoulders with every day is a healthy and necessary option. Isolation, dubiety, lack of communication -- those are the things that can come along with a break. And they are the complete opposite of healthy. This lust, growing warmth, hands wandering past shirts and belts, it doesn't feel healthy either. It feels desperate and primal. It's a need. Satiation is tempting, and Tyler gives in.

The world around him begins to lose a little focus. Objects in the dark step out of their outlines, scents intensify in his nostrils, Josh moves faster than his eyes can register, and it's the complete opposite of what he was preparing himself for. He opens his eyes mid-kiss and decides that Josh is just as lost in this as he is. And he could easily take advantage of the moment to pay Josh back for tying him up.

And so, Tyler pulls away and aims at Josh's arm with a hand balled up into a fist, but he lacks speed and Josh takes over him by curling his fingers around his throat first. This time, Tyler can't stifle a moan that escapes his mouth, and he realizes with shame that his dick is hard, tenting the fabric of his pants. He feels vulnerable and exposed, but still attempts to get off by bucking his hips. He doesn't want to lose such a good opportunity thrown his way.

Tyler grabs Josh by the wrist to which the hand around his throat is attached and squeezes as hard as he can until Josh finally loosens his grip. The difference in size between their hands shows clearly in this moment. Josh barely feels any pain at all with Tyler's boney fingers trying to deal some damage. Tyler's chest heaves as he drags air back into his lungs with much difficulty, coughing and choking. His hand leaves black fingerprints all over Josh's skin.

Tyler scoffs, before saying, "You think you're better th-than this h-huh? You just can't stand seeing me up there like this. Confident, strong. You're falling behind, and it hurts your little ego," he spits out, and the pressure around his neck returns once the last word escapes his mouth.

Tyler lets himself go, fully exposing his neck and letting his mouth hang open. Josh keeps his hand steady but still counts on the fingers of the other one while Tyler continues his desperate tries to relieve himself with the help of the layers of fabric tightening around his cock. The tips of his horns reach the wall behind them and scrape up the paint, but he doesn't stop. He keeps moving, clawing at Josh's arm and chasing after tiny, underwhelming jolts of pleasure. The screeching of his horns dragged against the wall doesn't affect him.

Josh adjusts his position, trying to keep his hand around Tyler's throat for the last few seconds, be it underwhelming or too loose, then shoves his elbow between Tyler's legs and listens to his reaction, every high pitched, keening sound that reaches his ears once Tyler receives something to rub his cock on. He eagerly accepts the offering, ignoring the pain that shoots up his dick and travels all the way to his abdomen the first few seconds and carelessly humps what he can. 

Josh lets go of Tyler's neck mere seconds before he reaches his climax. Tyler cries out, cock twitching against Josh's forearm and marking it with cum that seeps through his pants. He keeps rolling his hips until it all gets just too painful.

"Is that it? Is that what you wanted?" Josh asks dryly. He doesn't give Tyler any time to come down from his high, but it doesn't matter, because Tyler takes all the time he wants, anyway. Josh is getting tired. This place, whatever it is, makes him tired. He gets back up, wiping his arm on Tyler's jeans and looking down on him with discontent. 

"Okay," Tyler mumbles finally. He finally lifts his head and looks Josh in the eyes, unashamed of his current state. "We need to get outta here."

Josh shakes his head. "What?"

"This place is messing with me," Tyler shrugs. "I mean, this, um. It felt good. But we have to leave."

"Alright. But I don't think we can," Josh informs helpfully. 

There are no doors in sight, no windows, nothing that they could possibly use to escape this trap. But Tyler has been through a lot in his life. He'd gotten out of a lot of situations that looked hopeless, but he'd never just sat down and wallowed in despair until the solution fell from the heavens above. He had to look for it himself, fight for it at times, and life had surely taught him how to deal with those type of settings.

"And how do you know that? You can't even see anything," Tyler says, eyes narrowing. He gets up, lurching to the side and holding on to the chair. The entire universe flashes before his eyes, but it's gone with one shake of his head, which makes his bones pop, too. "Stop staring and help me, there's gotta be somethin' here that can help us."

Josh doesn't complain. He doesn't have the slightest idea what has changed Tyler's mind and made him want to get out, but he's grateful for it. He starts looking around, bumping into unidentified objects every now and then due to the lack of light. He reaches one of the walls and feels it up with his hands, but there is nothing, not a single window frame, no door knobs, not even a picture hanging on a nail. This room is like a box. A strange, gigantic box.

Out of nowhere, Josh hears a click and suddenly, there's light. It's flickering above their heads, but it reveals what previously couldn't have been seen. 

"Got it," Tyler says with satisfaction. He found the switch-key first. 

Josh rolls his eyes and looks around.

The room turns out to be terribly clogged with furniture that had definitely seen better days. The floor is covered in newspapers and other garbage, like bedding in a cage, explaining the unpleasant scents filling the room up. Tyler tries his best to minimize the number of breaths he's taking to avoid inhaling particles of dust which swirled around them, threatening to settle in the trachea and cause a coughing fit. If only he was aware of the condition of this room before things got out of control, he wouldn't have let Josh do half the things he's done.

The walls are red, it turns out, stained with what seems like rainwater that soaked through the roof. This room is dead in the most literal way meaning of the word, and long forgotten, save for their souls stuck inside it, but still powerful enough to make a visitor think. And Tyler, unfortunately, is a thinker. 

Fortunately enough, Josh has more control over his own thoughts and pulls him out before Tyler can let his own off the leash. 

"Uh, Tyler?" he calls from the opposite side of the room. "Check this out."

Tyler approaches him slowly, each of his steps more careful than the other. The floor cracks and groans under his feet. What Josh is so interested in turns out to be a plank. Josh spots it from underneath the layers of newspapers covering the floor. What makes it stand out against all the others is its color -- yellow, bright, completely unfazed by anything that surrounds it. It looks fairly new as if somebody recently placed it there.

Tyler crouches next to Josh, then says, "Well, that's odd."

"What d'you wanna do about it?" Josh asks, glancing at him. 

"You still got that knife on you?" 

"Yeah, there." Josh pulls it out of his back pocket and hands it over to him, awaiting his next move.

Tyler doesn't use the blade. He turns the knife upside down, making sure the sharp part is fully hidden, then hits the yellow plank, just where it's touching another, and keeps hitting until a chunk of it breaks off. Josh watches with concern but doesn't interrupt him. Tyler tosses the knife back to Josh and sticks his fingers in the small hole he created, and lifts the yellow plank up.

Much to Tyler's disappointment, it doesn't reveal a lot. There is darkness, but nothing besides it, no clues, no salvation. Tyler sighs.

Josh looks up at him. There's not much to lose, he thinks, so he picks the knife off the floor. "Hold on," he says and then, he drops it in the hole. 

Tyler's eyebrows knit in confusion. There should be a sound, even the softest, quietest little thud, but the knife should make a sound once it hits the bottom of the hole, but it never does. When Tyler looks up again, Josh is staring at him. "Oh, no, no, no, I'm not doing this. I refuse. If you wanna go, you can go, but I'm out," Tyler says, on the verge of panic. Josh grabs him by the arm.

"I can't go by myself. What if they don't want me there?"

It takes a moment for the words to settle in Tyler's head. They. _They_. He looks at Josh, feels the grip around his arm fading when their eyes meet, Josh's filled with innocence so fake that it's disgusting to see, Tyler's filled with increasing frustration. Josh puts his hand on one of the planks, wanting to pull at it, but Tyler gets up and raises his leg, then steps on Josh's hand before he can retract, putting as much pressure into it as possible. Josh whimpers and tries to push him away, but Tyler bends over to grab him by the forearm.

"They? Who's _'they'_?" he growls, pulling and clawing at his skin. Josh stays quiet, refusing to answer. They're both pulling at each other's limbs and it's a pointless tussle, but it continues for a minute, all until Tyler kicks Josh in the stomach, almost making him topple over. "I knew it, I fuckin' knew it! I knew you were involved in this!" He screams and keeps pushing. He stops when Josh is finally lying flat on his back, then crawls on top of him. Josh coughs and chokes, defenseless with his inner organs violated and Tyler sitting on top of him.

Tyler is mid-swing when Josh regains his consciousness. Seconds part him from Tyler's fist reaching his face. Josh grabs his wrist last minute and tries to force him back, but Tyler is not giving up. He wants to strike a punch, badly, and he's not letting the opportunity slip away easily.

"Wait, I'll explain, I swear I was going to-"

"Shut up," Tyler shouts, and it works. It doesn't take a lot for Josh to start panicking, and hearing Tyler's voice - full of aggression and hate - is almost enough. "One more word and I'm gonna break your nose," Tyler groans, taking another failed attempt. He's too weak. He hates Josh for keeping something a secret when he's clearly the one who should always know everything. "Why are you doing this?"

Josh struggles to breathe properly but tries his best to keep Tyler's hands away from his own face. "I just didn't tell you everything," he forces the words out, and suddenly, Tyler freezes. 

He blinks. Both of them are breathing heavily, except Tyler's lungs aren't having any trouble doing their job. Meanwhile, Josh's chest is heaving. "What do you know?" Tyler asks.

"I'll tell you. I'll tell you if you let me- if you let me go," Josh offers.

Tyler hates himself even more now that he's softening and pulling his hands out of Josh's grip to slowly slip off of him and get back to his feet. He stays close, though, in case some dumb ideas cross Josh's mind. Tyler won't hesitate to trip him up if he needs to. If Josh gets injured -- good. Somebody has to be the first one to break that nose of his. 

His impatience gets the best of him, it's nothing new. One might think that Tyler has learned to be patient over the years -- hundreds of days, all spent on working, should be able to twist and turn a human into somebody brand new, immune to emotions, unable to care. But Tyler is more determined and furious than ever before. So he pulls Josh up, and it's the worst mistake he could make.

Josh uses the opportunity, handed to him on a silver platter by Tyler himself, to grab him tightly and push him towards the hole. Tyler stumbles over his feet and clutches Josh's arms, but he's too slow to defend himself. He can feel the planks surrounding the hole giving out under his weight and cracking, and the last thing he sees is Josh's eyes. He's going to pay for it. Oh, he's going to pay well.

He starts falling, but Josh is falling with him. And they keep falling, falling and falling.

* * *

It feels like hours. But at the same time, it feels like seconds. And despite the truth remaining unknown, every moment is spent on failed attempts to regain stability, mostly by desperately tugging on arms, legs, and fabric, but nothing is enough to outrival the sheer power of the passage.

Limbs stretch out, muscles strain, bones crack, eyeballs pop out of skulls, but at the same time, everything stays intact. Everything is harassed, but everything stays untouched. 

It's painful. And pain is not artificial. 

They see washes of colors resembling faces, dots of black serving as eyes, splashes of white pretending to be teeth. At certain angles, they see each other's noses, an inimitable, elegant slope, and despisable curve. Freckles, disconnecting from the body and joining the surrounding surreality to help form an inverted sky. Clothes peeled from bodies, geometric designs peeled off arms and chests. 

An unknown world left behind and never to be entered again. It feels like a one-way road, and the possibility of not returning home is terrifying. They hold on to each other, grip, pull apart, all out of fear and despair. Hearts are still beating. It's a quick, comforting rhythm. 

It's a walk of shame that has been waiting to be walked for longer than originally expected, no longer accepting sluggishness, pushing, chasing up, invalidating the power of pain.

They tumble down a hill, something still and concrete, and it's almost relieving to feel something that surely exists, that can be touched and felt. First, it's grass, and discomfort is mild. Then, it's hard, sharp stones, and it compounds, bruising skin and ramming into ribs, dislocating internal organs, multiplying contusions. It's not as painful and critical as it seems, but their bodies are tender and pulpous as if just put together and still not firm enough to let them function properly.

Then, it's water. Glacial and sticking needles under delicate skin, reaching for nerves and bones.

Tyler isn't handling it well. Once his body crawls back under his control and senses find their assigned places, he begins swallowing, once, twice, three, four times, until his intestines make their way down his esophagus and settle in his stomach, convoluting into an acceptable mess. His head narrowly misses a sharp, sturdy rock, and the thought of brain spilling out and all over it, if weren't for a fool's luck, hits him hard, and makes him ache more than every single thing that had just happened taken together. He's alive. He's neither okay, nor safe, from what it seems, but he's alive.

He hears a voice, soft and gentle, and it causes everything inside him, freshly arranged and not fully settled, to boil. His body might have been put through a trial of accidents, but his mind is still sober. His memory is clear.

"Are you okay?" 

Tyler peels his eyes open, eyelids like velcro, and sees the reason behind his pain in the flesh, the face that gave him all this pain and discomfort. He wants to get up, grab it, and shove it in the grass until he sees blood. But he's unable to move. His eyes wander and keep wandering, analyzing until they locate a bruise. Tyler's left forearm is swollen and painted with purples, reds, and greens, sleeve rolled up.

"No," he whimpers, shifting, blood rushing to every limb. His head turns from side to side, legs kicking weakly. "No, no, no," he repeats like a broken record, tears stinging his eyes.

Josh is right in front of him, and he's bruised, too, but he's better at dealing with pain. Tyler can't see much purple or red from under the sleeves of his hoodie or the legs of his jeans. It's unfair. That's no way to treat another human being. Tyler would have stepped in eventually, and maybe if they weren't in the middle of a scuffle, then they wouldn't have ended up all messed up. 

Tyler doesn't think he deserves this. He deserves many horrible things, but that he does not. He wants Josh to take all his contusions and bruises away. Josh should paste them onto his own body, where there's still space.

"Hey, you should stay down, probably," Josh says as he watches Tyler's pathetic attempts to sit up. It takes him a moment to realize that Tyler's horns are gone. Not broken off or pulled out -- they're completely gone, not even a scar left where they used to be.

Tyler groans and lets gravity pull his upper body back to the ground with a thud. His back hurts. If it weren't for the fact that he was able to move, he would assume that the crossing twisted him so hard it broke his spine. "It hurts," he whimpers. "It's your fault," he says, trying to move his arm, but it feels heavier than ever before. Fortunately, the right one doesn't refuse to cooperate. 

He reaches behind his back and struggles to pull out something that has been digging into it ever since he opened his eyes again. It's round and rather small -- it's a roll of tape, perfectly untouched and unbothered. It must have gone through the exact same path as they did, but Tyler imagines it rolling down the hill silently and peacefully. Not having a nervous system, a body, a bloodstream truly had its good sides. 

Josh nods, and says, "It is, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking and-"

"Keep your mouth shut," Tyler spits out, words formed with pure venom. Josh does just that, not expecting him to be so grouchy. Tyler searches for the right spot and uses his teeth to pull the tape off. He presses the sticky side to his arm. "You don't understand what you've done at all, do you?" He asks, wrapping up the bruised area of his skin. He's not in his right mind, so he doesn't think ahead. Having to rip it off later and how much it's going to hurt is not a thing that he considers. What matters is the purples and reds disappearing under layers of bright yellow.

"We had no choice," Josh says. He's the one thinking about how painful the removal process is going to be, but he only watches. He doesn't condemn. 

Tyler throws the roll at him and hits him right in the eye. He ignores his wailing. In fact, it's kind of a pleasant sound. "I don't want to hear your voice unless you're talking facts, got it? We could as well both be dead right now, and it would all be on you."

"Sorry," Josh says, rubbing his eye. His head is hanging low and heavy between his shoulders, and Tyler almost almost feels something close to empathy when looking at him. But he's not the type of person to just forgive and forget. Josh will have to work hard to redeem himself.

Tyler doesn't accept the apology, but he doesn't reject it either. He just blatantly ignores it and finally gets up to his feet, every limb of his obeying his brain. He still feels strangely fragile and numb but starts heading onwards, straight into the unknown.

"Hey, wait!" he hears Josh calling from behind and finds him rushing to keep up within seconds. "I thought you wanted to know something."

Tyler is limping, but that's okay. Pain is impermanent, and anger seems to always topple its significance in times like this. "Yeah, I still do," he says, eyes focused on the stretch of grassland ahead. He trips over a bump in the ground, but it doesn't slow down his step, -doesn't mess up his tempo. "But I also feel like going there." He points somewhere without thinking much.

The sights are interesting, to say the least. It's an untamed landscape, unreached by the human hand. There are hills, surrounding the territory like a natural border, streams of water running through places that seem completely designless, but they fit perfectly just where they are. Far ahead, a strange building begins to arise, tall and grey, out of place among various shades of green. 

"Well, uh. You should be able to recognize this world," Josh begins, trying to keep up. "Last night, before you passed out, I found you in your dressing room. You were writing something down, talking to yourself and stuff. I looked at your notes and this place is exactly what you were trying to describe."

Tyler stops all of a sudden and turns around. Josh bumps into him, their noses knocking together. He takes a step back, and Tyler stands firmly in his spot. He asks, "So this- this is my world?" 

"I think so, yeah. I tried to ask you what you were working on, but you told me you weren't sure yet," Josh explains.

"Why didn't you tell me? I was trying to figure out what was up, and you had the answer all along. Why?" Tyler growls, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing.

Tyler's fingers digging into his sensitive skin, freshly wrapped around bones, is not a pleasant feeling. Their bodies feel like clay, but Tyler is firmer due to anger flowing through his veins, hardening his frame, giving him more power. "I don't know, I guess I just panicked, okay?"

"You idiot," Tyler shakes him, rattling his bones and shocking his system. "Tell me more about it. Everything you remember."

Josh attempts sputtering out an answer, Tyler keeping his death grip on him. His fingers are seconds away from reaching Josh's bones, but then, he lets go. Josh finally lets out a breath. "Can we sit down? You don't know where you're going."

"Fine," Tyler grunts, and doesn't even think about it before sitting down on the grass. His main focus is the structure ahead, so he makes sure they're both able to look at it. Josh sits down next to him.

"You called it Trench. This part of it, at least. That over there?" Josh points to the building, and Tyler's eyes light up. "That's Dema. But you don't wanna go there. That's where the bad guys live, they want to brainwash you or something. People who lack creativity are easier to control, I guess."

Tyler gives himself a moment to process all this knowledge. Then, he says, "Sounds like somethin' a high person would come up with."

Josh huffs out a laugh. "I kinda thought the same when I read all this stuff last night. It's cool, though."

Tyler's eyes are still chained to that one place in the distance. He's confused, but most importantly, he's terrified of how enormous and powerful this entire world looks. It exceeds everything his brain has ever managed to create before, and he can only imagine how big of a responsibility it is to take care of. "What am I supposed to do now? I know nothing about this place. And it's- it's mine."

"You created it, dude. You can build it up from what I told you. You'll figure it out." Tyler nods absently. Josh pulls him into a hug, and Tyler, surprisingly, doesn't mind. "We're probably gonna find our way home soon, anyway. You'll take a break, then read all your notes again. It'll come to you."

Tyler huffs with displeasure and wrenches out of Josh's embrace. There's a hole inside his chest, a pit that keeps growing deeper the longer he observes the surroundings. This place looks empty, almost two-dimensional, lacking something Tyler cannot identify. It's an outline, an empty canvas, despite its intricate details. It needs life and sound pushed into it, but all Tyler can hear is wind and water. With every second that passes, silence grows louder inside his head. And suddenly, the realization hits him that there's a missing sound he's trying to find, but inside his own interior rather than the world around him.

What would usually be a quiet whisper, a word of encouragement or disheartenment, is all gone now. His mind feels empty, in a surprisingly healthy way. But Tyler knows this isn't an entirely good sign.

"I can't hear him," Tyler says thoughtlessly. He can feel color leaking from his own face as fear takes over his body. "He's gone."

Josh glances at him and thinks for a moment before opening his mouth. "That's good, right? Maybe he can't control you anymore."

"No." The blank expression on Tyler's face changes into cogitation. "He's not in my head but-but I can feel him, somewhere, existing outside of me. That's worse."

Tyler doesn't give Josh time to think of a reply, he just gets up, using his shoulder for support. Josh allows it and waits for him to stand fully stable on his feet before getting up too.

"Tyler?"

He turns around. "We have to find him."

"Why? Why would you want to look for him?" Josh tries to grab his arm, but Tyler smacks his hand away. Josh steps back conformably, rubbing his palm. 

"'Cause I can't control him anymore. I need to know what he's up to."

Tyler feels weak, and wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that Blurryface is absent all of a sudden. He's always been a parasite, crawling inside Tyler's head without allowance, and Tyler would have done anything in his power to get rid of him. Now, when he's actually gone, he realizes how big of a danger he could become, untamed, not surrounded by the walls of Tyler's mind anymore. He feels obliged to find him. 

Tyler takes a deep breath, fresh air filling up his lungs and refreshing his mind, and then he starts walking. He knows Josh will follow. He does.

This world belongs to him. It's terrifying and feral, out of control, lacking a muzzle, but it sprang up from under his hands and consumed him as soon as it came to life, and it will be tamed by him at last.

For a brief moment, he is the one in the front, playing a determined leader. Soon, he turns into a sack of bones that slows everything down. With fear sprinkled on top of exhaustion, he becomes exactly what he hates. Josh slows down his step. 

Something inside Tyler snaps again, but for some reason, he can't bring himself to push Josh away when his arm hooks underneath his own to help with keeping balance. Josh's fingers take an unsure journey down Tyler's forearm until they reach his hand to tighten right there, and Tyler is surprisingly okay with that, too. It's okay. Tyler is tired and more unsure than he'd like to admit. He needs support. It's okay. This touch feels familiar. It's strange. It's okay.

They continue walking together as the hills surrounding them watch with no eyes needed, saying silent goodbyes to yet another set of lost, unfortunate souls.


End file.
